Sub Rosa
by ABC Girl
Summary: A serial killer is loose in Miami. Can Horatio find him before it's too latefor Calleigh? HC
1. Red Roses for a Blue Lady

Title: Sub Rosa (1/1)  
  
Author: Andrea (abc3969@juno.com)  
  
Rating: R  
  
Pairing: While I might explore the potential of other duos on occasion, my heart will always return to Horatio/Calleigh; and so, to my own muse I must be true.  
  
Disclaimer: Me no profit; you no sue. Song titles shamelessly borrowed-no infringement intended.  
  
Archive: Is anybody archiving these? If so, just say so. I'll come visit. Laeta and Eve be my guests.  
  
Spoilers: None.  
  
Author's Notes: I finally tried my hand at a real case fic--within the confines of an H/C romance, of course.  
  
Dedication: For taking this long, winding journey with me, and most importantly, for putting up with my moody, temperamental self, Mar. There are no words.  
  
Summary: A serial killer leaves clues on his victims' bodies, taunting Horatio and the team to catch him. Then he escalates, sending the clues before the murders. Can Horatio find him before it's too late-for Calleigh?  
  
Feedback: If you please. Be gentle.  
  
~~~~~ Chapter One: Red Roses for a Blue Lady ~~~~~  
  
Omaha, Nebraska, USA  
  
"I have asked you nicely to leave me alone. How many times do I have to say it? I'm not now, nor was I *ever* in love with you."  
  
She looked at him in desperation.  
  
"I am going to marry Scott in two weeks. You have to leave me alone!"  
  
She was in tears now, unable to get through to him, unable to make him understand.  
  
"But *I* love you..."  
  
"Then you have to stop. Someone else has my heart, not you."  
  
The young blonde girl turned, frustrated and scared, and ran--distance from her pursuer her only objective--tossing his offering of roses to the ground without a second thought.  
  
The man knelt and retrieved the roses, pulled them free of their tissue paper wrapping. In a fury-induced trance he was helpless to fend off, he savagely ripped the buds from their stems, his contempt for the girl intensifying with each successive flower.  
  
A thorn viciously pierced his thumb, but he felt nothing.  
  
As the first drop of blood dotted the sidewalk, his stupor instantly lifted, morbid intent now firmly entrenched in his thoughts.  
  
"Not for long. One way or another, I will have your heart. I swear I will," he vowed derisively to himself as he watched her leave.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miami, Florida, USA  
  
Horatio Caine and Adell Sevilla hunched over the woman's prone body, dead but a few hours.  
  
Pensive and intensely focused on the crime scene, Horatio picked up the killer's calling card for closer examination. The single red rosebud, devoid of stem, still carried a lingering scent.  
  
"One blood red rose left on the victim. *Blood red*. Our guy seems to have a poetic sense of humor," Horatio offered ruefully.  
  
"Yeah. I'll say it's poetic--poetic and warped. This is the third vic in as many weeks." Adell agreed.  
  
"No doubt about it. We've got a serial on our hands, folks."  
  
Speed's irritated groan filled the starkly lit hotel room. "The press is chomping at the bit outside, H. We're gonna have to give them something before they go off half-cocked and start a panic."  
  
"Let them wait. We have a crime scene to process. Speed, photograph everything. Eric, you're on trace. Be sure to bag the rose carefully-it's our only lead so far."  
  
"You got it, H."  
  
"Adell, I'll get with you later on the victim profiles. Calleigh, you're with me. Let's go feed the sharks."  
  
Calleigh fell into step beside Horatio, matching his long, graceful strides with marked effort. Horatio noted her determination to stay with him and obligingly slowed his pace. Glancing down to her eye level as they walked on, he snickered.  
  
"Sorry. I need to keep reminding myself that those little short legs sometimes have trouble keeping up with me."  
  
In a rare display of playfulness, he winked at her, letting a teasing sparkle in his eyes shine through.  
  
Calleigh tried to shoot him a look of mock indignation, but the sizzle of heat that tickled at her senses made it impossible to do anything but grin.  
  
"Hey, you. No short jokes, thank you very much. These 'little short legs' haven't been a problem for you yet."  
  
"That they have not," he admitted absently, suppressing a grin.  
  
Without missing a beat, Horatio focused his attention on the gaggle of reporters and flipped the switch on his authoritative persona, making a brief noncommittal statement meant only to dazzle the crowd and buy the team more time to identify the killer.  
  
Calleigh stood silently by his side scanning those assembled with her keen investigator's eye. The killer may have been just brazen enough to stick around to enjoy the frenzy his spree was causing and Calleigh was determined to pounce on anyone suspicious.  
  
The television cameras first zoomed in on Horatio, then on Calleigh, broadcasting their faces across the entire greater Miami metropolitan area during that night's five o'clock news.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Clyde Huffman watched in rapt fascination. How perfect was this? Another virtual twin to the bitch from Omaha was right there on the TV screen. His next mark had just been delivered to him through the wonders of modern technology and he didn't even have to go out looking for her. He sneered, barked out a hideous cackle, and crumpled a rose between his beefy fingers.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The following day, Horatio entered the conference room, slapping the "Rosebud Killer" case file on the table with a *thud*.  
  
"So, what have we got?"  
  
Adell, as lead investigator for the case, sat in on this meeting ready to work hand-in-glove with the Crime Lab. She pushed a button that started the overhead video screen on a downward path and lit up the viewer.  
  
As Adell began recounting details, a yearbook photo of a slightly built, ultra-feminine blue-eyed blonde slid onto the screen.  
  
"Victim Number One, Hillary Lancaster, age twenty-one, visiting our fair shores from Omaha, Nebraska. Two weeks ago, another guest at her hotel, her best friend, in fact, found her splayed over a sauna bench, shot through the chest, the rose meticulously placed over the entrance wound in her heart. She was supposed to be married three days after she was found."  
  
Calleigh caught her breath...the resemblance of the victim to herself was uncanny. Horatio caught her reaction, but chose not to make an issue of it.  
  
"We have contacted the would-be groom, then, I take it?" Horatio queried, his focus never leaving the photo.  
  
Adell gave a quick nod in the affirmative.  
  
"You bet. His alibi checks out, as does her best friend's. The poor girl just walked into the sauna to meet her friend and instead found her lifeless body."  
  
When the second photo came into view, this one a more candid shot, Calleigh's discomfort ratcheted up a notch. Again, the victim was a pretty blue-eyed blonde, strikingly similar in appearance.  
  
"This is victim number two, Krista Noone, twenty-three years old, formerly of Buffalo, New York...moved here a few months back. Similar story-a jogger found her body in Loomis Park last week. This time, she was laid out flat with the rose nestled in her cupped hands, again, placed over the hole in her heart.  
  
Adell continued unimpeded, clicking the last photo onto the screen.  
  
"And finally, yesterday's victim, Melanie Blair, age twenty-six, a Miami native. Same MO. The rose hid the bullet hole," she explained.  
  
"Yet another pretty young blonde." Horatio observed out loud.  
  
By this point, the entire group had caught on to the pattern-young, attractive, toe-headed females with crystalline blue eyes were being murdered systematically and the shooter was marking his kills by leaving a rosebud near their now-arrested hearts.  
  
Calleigh could feel four pairs of eyes appraising her unabashedly.  
  
"So, the victims look like me, or I look like the victims, or whatever. Big deal. There are plenty of blondes in this town." Calleigh rambled defensively.  
  
Anxious to shift attentions elsewhere, Horatio spoke up. "There's something about his leaving the roses over their hearts. He's telling us something...what is it?"  
  
"Maybe one of the victims is an old girlfriend who jilted him and he took revenge. That wasn't enough, so he started killing look-alikes." Delko reasoned.  
  
"Or maybe he's just a nut job." Speed quipped.  
  
Speed's joke diffused the tension in the room and allowed everyone but Calleigh to laugh uneasily in the face of tragedy.  
  
"He was romancing their hearts, or trying to, at least. And when they didn't respond the way he wanted them to, he killed them. The rose was his way of expressing infatuation, even as he was ending their lives." Calleigh's words, remarkably succinct and profile-like, echoed off the walls bringing a hushed silence to the room.  
  
Horatio's heart felt leaden. Calleigh's melancholy tone stood in stark relief from her sagacious perception of the circumstances. He hoped that her insight had not come from first-hand knowledge of love gone horribly wrong. The very idea that anyone could use and abuse her heart devastated him. If she was mine, I would safeguard her heart with my last ounce of strength he thought.  
  
Shaking himself out of this uncharacteristic bout of dreamy introspection, Horatio took charge again, moving around the room to command the team's attention and draw it away from Calleigh. She needed time to regroup after her pronouncement and he was determined that she should have it.  
  
Delko spoke up. "OK. This guy has a problem with blondes, maybe even one specific blonde. The only real pieces of evidence we've found at any of the scenes are the roses, American Beauties. I'm working through a list of growers and suppliers to see if anyone bought a large quantity lately. Could be a dead end, though. He may just go to the corner grocery and buy them one at a time."  
  
Horatio was quick to point out the commonality. "American Beauties. Really? We're back to his poetic, romantic gestures again."  
  
"Trace found a partial print on a petal, but roses are porous. The print's gonna be hard to extract, H."  
  
"Run it through AFIS anyway. We may just get lucky, Eric," Horatio suggested.  
  
"On my way." Delko confirmed, en route to the print lab.  
  
"Speed. You get anything from the crime scene photos?"  
  
"Aside from the obvious, no. Nothing, H."  
  
"Then let that go for now. Instead, why don't you work with Adell interviewing the families? We've got to find a connection...and soon."  
  
"You got it, Boss."  
  
"What's my next assignment, Horatio?" Calleigh wondered.  
  
"Sit tight. We need more to go on."  
  
The strained nonchalance of his reply grated on her. In fact, Calleigh was halfway to furious. She lit into him with a fierceness that bordered on insubordination.  
  
"Even after all this time, how can you still think I'm some hothouse flower who can't take care of herself? Don't coddle me, Horatio. I've got a job to do and I'm not going to let some psycho stop me from doing it."  
  
Horatio was glad the room had otherwise emptied before this scene played out. Her vehement tirade stunned him speechless. He knew that trying to explain his reasons would open up Pandora's Box, revealing emotions neither one of them was as yet prepared to face. He stayed silent, choosing to look away rather than into her accusing eyes. He stood with one fist clamped to his waist and the other vigorously rubbing the frown lines from his forehead.  
  
He took just a second to look into the near distance, then back at Calleigh. Controlled breathing helped him school his features and his temper as he steeled himself for the coming confrontation.  
  
In a voice that was all business-determination and intent-he addressed her concerns, his trademark cool professionalism in play, as always.  
  
"First of all, *Detective*, I am *not* coddling you. I am, however, looking out for my team. Surely you realize that everyone in this room today saw your resemblance to the vics and surmised that you could very well be a target, even if only by coincidence."  
  
Duly reprimanded, Calleigh's belligerent mood disappeared, her posture indicated defeat.  
  
Horatio cautiously stepped closer to Calleigh and chancing a sheepish smile, tenderly cupped her cheek in his hand.  
  
"And secondly," he nearly whispered now, "I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you that I could have prevented, Calleigh. If this animal is even so much as a remote threat to you, I have to nail him."  
  
His tenderness and heart-felt concern were her undoing.  
  
Calleigh couldn't stop herself; she pressed her cheek more fully into his hand and gave it a slow, lazy, cat-like nudge. For months, she had been craving a new kind of closeness with him, and if this was the first step in that direction, then she was willing to take it.  
  
Taken by surprise at how quickly Calleigh's fiery spirit could turn into sensual, passionate heat, Horatio stepped back from her and took great pains to look everywhere but in her eyes.  
  
Calleigh ducked under his chin, drawing his attention downward to look at her, despite his efforts not to do so.  
  
A discontented sigh fought its way through her, but she didn't let it escape.  
  
"Oh, Horatio. I am grateful for your concern; but there's nothing to worry about. Really. I'm not a target. I don't want the team to think I'm a victim waiting to happen. I don't want special treatment and I don't want to be excluded from investigating this case. So, let's just do our jobs, okay?"  
  
She smiled an easy smile then and turned to leave the room, but before she stepped over the threshold, she gave him a saucy wink, saying, "Besides, don't let my size fool you. If he decides to come after me, he's gonna have his hands full!"  
  
Horatio grinned openly as his eyes followed her retreating figure. Calleigh never heard the retort that he whispered under his breath.  
  
"Don't I know it..." 


	2. Paper Roses

Disclaimers in Chapter 1  
  
~~~~~ Chapter Two: Paper Roses ~~~~~  
  
Speed was getting nowhere fast trying to find a connection between the victims. From all appearances, they were from different cities, had different lifestyles and had nothing and no one in common.  
  
Adell was having only slightly better luck. Scott Craig, Hillary Lancaster's fiancé, had provided the Omaha PD with a box of letters he had found while going through her things. Apparently, Hillary had been keeping the letters, but planned to destroy them once she and Scott returned from their honeymoon. Inside the box were three unsigned letters bound together by a black satin ribbon. When Scott opened the envelopes, a dark red rose petal fell out of each one. The case officer from Omaha sent the letters, the rose petals and ribbon to the Miami Crime Lab for further investigation.  
  
Nearly a week had passed since murder number three, and the evidence collected thus far had wielded no solid leads. The bullets had all shattered on impact, destroying the victims' hearts and rendering ballistics tests futile. However, the letters hadn't been completely analyzed yet, so there were still possibilities.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Horatio was behind the closed doors of his office working through the minutia of bureaucracy when his cell phone rang.  
  
Flipping the phone open and checking the digital display, he answered, "Speed, what's up?"  
  
"Uh, H, you'd better come downstairs to the front desk. There's someone here I think you're gonna want to talk to."  
  
"I'll be right down." Horatio didn't even question the statement...he knew instinctively that the visitor had something to do with the "Rosebud Killer" case.  
  
On his way downstairs, he stopped by ballistics and asked Calleigh to accompany him, an invitation she accepted without hesitation. He ushered her out of the lab with his hand hovering protectively at the small of her back and walked just a step behind her through the familiar halls and down the stairs, both acts Calleigh had always thought of as more gallant than patronizing.  
  
As the pair approached the front desk, Horatio took notice of Speed, who was attempting to console a visibly shaken young blonde girl.  
  
"Amy Holloway...Lieutenant Horatio Caine and Detective Calleigh Duquesne." The girl nodded in their direction in response to Speed's introduction.  
  
"Amy found this in her mailbox today." Speed, already glove-bedecked and ready for business, held up a nondescript piece of typing paper, neatly folded into thirds.  
  
The unfolded paper revealed a rose petal.  
  
Speed placed the letter on the counter for the group to see. Horatio read aloud, "One American Beauty for another. I will have your heart. Soon." There was no signature, but a faint smudged fingerprint was visible in the bottom right corner of the page.  
  
"I'm not even seeing anybody right now," Amy admitted. "I don't know who put this in my box, but the whole thing creeped me out, so I called the police. They suggested I come see you. Does this letter have anything to do with those murdered girls I heard about on TV?"  
  
Horatio spoke diplomatically, in generalities. "Ms. Holloway, thank you for bringing this letter down to us. I'm not at liberty to discuss any ongoing investigations, but I would appreciate it if you kept all this to yourself and didn't speak to anyone, most especially any members of the press who might approach you."  
  
"Wow. It *is* about those murders. Sure, I'll keep quiet. But you have to make sure I'm not next on this wacko's list, you know?"  
  
"We'll do our best, ma'am. Now, would you excuse us for just a second? We'll be right back." Horatio motioned for Calleigh and Speed to come with him.  
  
Before they could all go their separate ways, Horatio doled out responsibilities in an urgent, hushed tone.  
  
"Okay, this guy is getting brave now. He's escalating. We have to work fast. Calleigh, take the letter down to trace. Speed, please see that Ms. Holloway gets home."  
  
He turned back to the young blonde and reassured her as best he could.  
  
"Amy, we'll be in touch. No worries-we'll get the man who wrote this before he has a chance to try anything with you, but if something else should happen, please give me a call."  
  
He handed her his business card and looked cautiously toward Calleigh, then at Speed. There was no mistaking his meaning--they were running out of time.  
  
~~~~~  
  
After only a few hours, the lab was able to match the print from Amy Holloway's letter to a partial print from one of Hillary's letters. A search through AFIS proved unsuccessful, though. There was no match to be found. The killer was either a first-time offender or extremely cautious.  
  
Eric made copies of the lab results for the rest of the team and set out to hand deliver them. As he passed the break room, he looked in, finding Speed leaning casually against the countertop, cradling a coffee cup with both hands.  
  
"Hey, Speed. Hot off the press-the latest lab reports on the 'Rosebud Killer' fingerprints."  
  
Speed, concentrating on the contents of his cup, said nothing.  
  
"Yo, Speed! Earth to Speed." Eric waved his hand in front of Speed's face a couple of times.  
  
Tim looked up then, his trance broken.  
  
"Sorry, man. I was just thinking."  
  
"Should I start running now? You know it's dangerous when you do that," Eric teased.  
  
Speed's more serious eyes met Eric's, conveying a somber truth they both had considered, but didn't want to think about too closely.  
  
Eric gave in and spoke first.  
  
"I know what you're thinkin', man. Don't even go there. Just because Calleigh looks like this freak's victims, it doesn't mean she's next."  
  
Ever the skeptic, Speed was unconvinced. "Yeah, well, I won't bet the farm on it. We gotta nail this guy before he gets the chance to try anything with Calleigh."  
  
~~~~~  
  
The following day, Calleigh sat at her post in the A/V lab reviewing bank machine videotapes for a rash of 'smash and grabs' at local ATMs. Ashley, the lab's resident errand girl, knocked quietly and entered the room carrying a short stack of mail for Calleigh along with a long white box. She passed the envelopes to Calleigh and turned to leave when she remembered the package.  
  
"Oh, here. This is yours too," Ashley said, offering the box to Calleigh.  
  
"For me? Thanks, Ash." Calleigh's eyes lit up at the prospect of what could only be flowers from someone, but who could it be?  
  
She carefully lifted the two halves of the box apart to reveal a rose--a blood red American Beauty if she wasn't mistaken--and no indication of who had sent it. A frown creased her brow at the same instant Ashley soughed a wistful "Ooh, how pretty!"  
  
Without so much as a glance in Ashley's direction, Calleigh picked up the box, careful not to mar it with her own fingerprints, and rushed from the lab. She stuffed the box in an evidence bag and deposited it in her locker. After hours, when she was alone and the building would be empty, she would examine them. This could be an innocent gift from a secret admirer or it could be something much more menacing. No need to draw undue attention to this little development unless and until she had reason to suspect the latter.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Horatio dropped heavily into bed, his mind refusing to surrender to sleep.  
  
The Rosebud Killer case was still unsolved, and the body count threatened to rise. Now, this guy was playing mind games, alerting potential victims to his plans for them.  
  
And, as if that weren't enough to keep Horatio disconcerted, he couldn't stop thinking about Calleigh.  
  
For months now, he'd been sensing a shift in their relationship, one that led into more personal emotional territory. Ordinarily, he would have welcomed the change, but he recognized that his concern for her safety could so easily interfere with their work. The fact that she resembled the victims in this latest case and might be in danger simply strengthened his resolve-nothing would harm her on his watch, and his watch would be eternal.  
  
Once this murderer was caught, they needed to sit down and have a nice long conversation; but until then, Horatio's focus had to remain on the case.  
  
Despite having made up his mind where Calleigh was concerned, he still spent an uneasy, seemingly endless night wrestling with conflicting images of her--one, vibrant and alive, wrapped safely in his embrace after a night of passionate abandon, the other, a cold, empty shell, her eyes closed in death, a rose laid out gruesomely across her chest.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Calleigh spent that same night sleepless as well, but for completely different reasons...she was doing everything conceivable to glean evidence from the box and the rose she received earlier in the day.  
  
The battery of tests took hour upon hour to complete and boredom loomed irritatingly over her, but finally, one result brought her back to fully alert. A fingerprint on the box matched those of prints on Amy and Hillary's letters. This "gift" was from the killer. These crimes were all related. Now, all they needed to do was to put a name with the fingerprint and find him. So intent was she on identifying and apprehending the man that she failed to accept the fact that now *she* was, in effect, a marked woman, slated to be the killer's next prey.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Adell knocked brusquely on Horatio's office door and walked in without waiting for an invitation.  
  
"We've got a solid lead on Rosebud Boy, H."  
  
"Talk to me." Horatio's eyes lit with anticipation.  
  
"I've been in contact with Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster, victim number one's parents. They've been trying to come up with anything that might help us. Mrs. Lancaster remembered an incident from last year when Hillary was in college. She had occasion to meet one of the campus employees, a 'Clyde Huffman', who, over time developed a bit of a crush on her."  
  
The gears in Horatio's mind were turning at top speed.  
  
"And let me guess...Hillary didn't return his affections? His pursuit of her turned into a stalking."  
  
Adell nodded and winked at his perceptiveness.  
  
"There's more. Care to take a guess as to what line of work Loverboy is in? I'll save you the trouble. He is a groundskeeper. Wait for it...I checked with the university...the yard around Hillary's dormitory is full of American Beauty rose bushes. He's our guy, H. I can feel it."  
  
Her arch little smile signaled impending victory.  
  
This was it, the connection they needed!  
  
Horatio rose quickly from his seat, grabbing his suit coat from behind the door.  
  
"Nice work, Adell. I assume you've alerted Omaha PD and arranged for a warrant?"  
  
The detective's enthusiasm waned visibly.  
  
"Already done. New problem. No one's seen hide nor hair of him in over three weeks. He's disappeared without a trace. The university faxed me his employee ID photo-the APB is in the works as we speak."  
  
Horatio was undaunted. "Three weeks missing, huh? The same time span as the murders. Well, well...it seems as though the case against our Mr. Huffman just keeps getting stronger."  
  
The pair left the office then, Adell exiting the building and Horatio going in search of Calleigh. He had to share the news with her.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Horatio made a quick but thorough search of all Calleigh's usual haunts, saving the Audio/Visual department for last. When he entered the A/V lab, he found Calleigh hard at work, still pouring through ATM videos trying to ID the 'smash and grab' artist.  
  
"Knock, knock, knock" he murmured, advancing quietly into the room.  
  
Her concentration broken, Calleigh straightened from her hunched-over position and tried to stifle a weary yawn.  
  
Horatio gave a lighthearted chuckle, grinning as he spoke, "Long day?"  
  
By this time, he had moved in close, positioning himself at her back in perfect placement to catch a glimpse of her current project.  
  
"Hey. You have *no* idea." She smiled wanly back at him, a bit of her weariness dissipating, and turned back toward her work.  
  
He longed to take hold of her shoulders and relieve some of her obvious tension, but fought the urge, settling instead on a more innocuous gesture...gently fingering the soft waves of her hair that currently rested so close to his chest.  
  
Calleigh allowed herself only a few seconds to enjoy the sensations created by his touch, denying the impulse to sink back and rest against his solid warmth. Instead, she spun the seat of her chair toward him, giving him no other option but to break contact and step back to make room for her knees, instantly putting space between them. For Horatio it felt like an unbridgeable chasm. Their eyes met for only a moment, but mutual longing crisscrossed the distance and eased both their yearnings into a resigned state of acceptance. He wanted to reach out to her, but he wasn't sure how best to do it. And so he did nothing, letting the moment pass unchallenged.  
  
Horatio breathed deep, mercifully breaking the pregnant silence. "We may have an ID on the Rosebud Killer."  
  
At this news, Calleigh's eyebrows lifted, taking up residence very near her hairline.  
  
"Really? I'm sorry I missed it."  
  
She gifted him with a crooked smile, but her tone left no room for argument- -she was disappointed and hurt; she still felt left out.  
  
"Calleigh, don't do this. You've been busy with the ATM robberies and Adell followed up on a lead. That's all. You're still in the loop on this one, so no worries, okay?"  
  
His smile was genuine, but Calleigh still had her doubts.  
  
She pushed on, eager to be a part of the investigation. "So, what's next?"  
  
The uneasiness temporarily relieved between them, Horatio got back to business.  
  
"At the moment, our suspect, Clyde Huffman of Omaha, is missing in action. He may still be in town or he could have gone back home. The APB is in place. If he's still in Miami, we will find him, and when we do, you can be there when we make the collar."  
  
Calleigh flashed him the sweetest of smiles and rose from her chair to clear away the materials from the day's workload.  
  
"You're on, Handsome," came her more relaxed response.  
  
Horatio's pulse quickened at her use of the endearment. He'd only ever heard her say it once before to him, and his reaction now was the same as then-affection to the *nth* degree coupled with a gentle tug on his heartstrings.  
  
Someday, Calleigh, someday... he mused to himself.  
  
His emotions dangerously near the point of irrevocable release, Horatio subtly cleared his throat, not daring to look into her eyes, and began retracing his path out of the room.  
  
As he stepped through the door he nearly ran into Ashley, her face hidden behind a large white box. He extended his arms to prevent their collision.  
  
"Whoa, easy." Ever the gentleman, Horatio reached for the package, offering, "Here, let me help with that."  
  
Ashley smiled gratefully and began to hand off the box when Calleigh sprang into action.  
  
It took only a split second for her to realize what was in the box. She needed to confiscate it before Horatio could get a look inside.  
  
She quickly inserted herself between Ashley and Horatio saying, "Oh, I'll take it. Thanks, Ash. I've been waiting for this."  
  
Grabbing the box from Ashley, Calleigh turned and shoved it under the counter, then swiveled back toward Horatio, distractedly swiping strands of unruly hair out of her face.  
  
Horatio's arms came to rest at his hips but his eyes bore holes through the floor, the posture Calleigh recognized as his 'bloodhound on a scent' stance.  
  
Horatio eyed her suspiciously and carefully chose his next words.  
  
"Calleigh...what's going on? Is there something you should tell me, anything I need to know?"  
  
"Um...oh, that? No. It's nothing, just something I ordered on-line..." she answered, but her voice was so timid and edgy even she was unconvinced.  
  
She hoped he would let the issue drop.  
  
He knew better than to push her when she behaved like this, so he took another tack.  
  
"Alright, but you know where to find me if you need me." He looked at her almost expectantly and paused for a beat.  
  
The intensity of his gaze wasn't uncomfortable, necessarily, but Calleigh was unable to maintain eye contact for long, guilt creeping up on her like a phantom in the night.  
  
"I'm fine; everything's fine, Horatio."  
  
There it was, the pat answer she always gave whenever he inquired about her welfare.  
  
"You're sure?" He couldn't help but ask, concern weaving itself around each word, reaching out to her softly in an almost palpable caress.  
  
"Positive." She graced him with another one of those defense-melting smiles.  
  
Silence held sway for a long, impotent moment.  
  
Horatio sensed that there were some missing details here, something she was hiding, but he regretfully took his leave without further antagonizing her. Once out of earshot, though, he flipped open his cell phone and made a call.  
  
"Frank. Horatio. I need to call in a favor. Here's what I want you to do..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
~TBC~ 


	3. I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

Disclaimers in Chapter 1.  
  
~~~~~ Chapter Three: I Never Promised You a Rose Garden ~~~~~  
  
The investigation was well into its fourth week, and although Clyde Huffman was still on the loose, there had been no more murders. The team felt they were closing in, that is, until the weekly staff meeting.  
  
The group sat around the conference table updating each other on current case statuses.  
  
"...and Hallelujah, the ATM case is *finally* closed! MDPD caught the guy red-handed at a bank machine in Coconut Grove last night." Calleigh was exuberant.  
  
Speed's cell phone chirped, cutting into the conversation at hand.  
  
"Speedle. Hey, Adell. What's going on?" After a short silence on his end, he growled, "Damn it!"  
  
His expression said it all.  
  
Huffman had struck again.  
  
Speed ended the call and addressed the team. "Amy Holloway is dead. The bastard got to her. But there's something else...he left a note by the body, not just a rose. Adell read it to me. It reads, and I quote, "I told you I'd have your heart. Now there's only one heart left."  
  
Calleigh shuddered, but covered the reaction by shifting in her seat.  
  
The Rosebud Killer had his eye on one more victim, and Horatio was sure Calleigh was it.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The Hummer rolled up to the latest crime scene, Amy Holloway's apartment building, and the team climbed out, going in separate directions to complete their assigned tasks.  
  
As Calleigh combed the area for evidence samples, she took a moment to look around her and take in the 'big picture,' fitting all the clues into the context of the crime.  
  
That's when she noticed Horatio standing in the entryway of the apartment quietly conferring with Detective Tripp. Both their expressions were stern, their gazes steely. Whatever the topic of conversation, those two were more serious than she had ever seen them.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"...So we're clear? You or your guys see anything, hear anything, I'm your first call."  
  
Horatio's conspiratorial tone was addressed to Frank, but his eyes were focused across the room, somewhere in the vicinity just over Calleigh's shoulder.  
  
"We're crystal, H; not a problem. I'm on it. Round-the clock patrols. The place will give Fort Knox a run for its money," Frank stated with conviction.  
  
He recognized that of all the things Horatio would ever ask him to do, this one was the most important, both professionally and personally. A lot was at stake--there was no room for failure.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Having done all they could at the scene, the team packed up their gear and loaded back into the Hummer for the return ride to the lab. Horatio drove in silence, his mind laser-focused; Speed commandeered the front passenger seat while Delko and Calleigh shared the back. As the truck rolled on, Tim and Eric bantered to and fro doing their best to put the crime spree out of their minds, at least briefly, and Calleigh surreptitiously observed Horatio, all the while trying to puzzle out what was going on behind those ever-present sunglasses.  
  
The team disbursed for some much needed rest, but Horatio found no sleep again that night. This was the eleventh hour-they had to find Huffman soon or Calleigh would be next. And if even a hair on her head was damaged, Horatio was sure that heavy, unbearable guilt would besiege him like never before.  
  
He always carried the intense burden of watching over and protecting his team at all costs, the price of which he paid daily, one coin at a time; but with Calleigh, the desire was more, much more...beyond the realm of work and duty, past the politically correct into the far reaches of his sanity, where only she could touch him and make him whole. In truth, he was scared of who he was without her; therefore, to lose her was not an option.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Several days went by with no sign of Clyde Huffman. Work continued, other cases came and went, but the atmosphere at the lab was fraught with more tension than usual. Every unexpected noise made Calleigh jump and Horatio stalked the hallways, never seeming to sit still for very long. A caged panther, indeed.  
  
They were now into week five of the case, and if Huffman held to his pattern, another victim could be attacked at any time.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Calleigh carried the latest delivery of roses, the third one so far, home with her. She counted herself incredibly lucky that no one on the team had discovered her secret yet. Ashley was too enthralled with the illicitness of the 'gifts' to realize their importance, so she wouldn't be a problem. Calleigh was aware that by hiding the roses, she was in fact, withholding evidence in an active investigation, an offense that could easily cost her the job she loved so well. But for herself, she felt it was more important to save face with the team, and especially with Horatio, than to appear to be a hapless victim.  
  
Her hands full and her mind preoccupied, Calleigh didn't notice the shadowy figure lurking in the background as she stepped through her front room.  
  
Dropping her purse and tote bag onto the sofa and kicking her shoes in the general direction of her bedroom, she strolled into the kitchen to pour herself a tall glass of iced tea. As she crossed through the swinging door, she thought she heard a muffled *thump* behind her, but when no other noise followed, she went about her task with an indifferent shrug of her shoulders.  
  
Her tea now sufficiently sweetened, she looked again to the box. No sense in delaying the inevitable-she grabbed a pair of rubber gloves stowed conveniently beside the sink, pulled them on snugly and sat down in one of the cane-backed chairs at her kitchen table to examine the newest delivery. Again, there was only one dark red rose, but tucked neatly underneath was a single sheet of paper. Calleigh extracted the folded page and opened it gingerly.  
  
Silently she read...*You're next, Blondie. I will have your--*  
  
Her reading went unfinished as another sound, closer this time, seized her attention.  
  
Startled, she turned toward the noise...only to have her world fade to blackness as a sharp blow to the side of her head separated Calleigh's body from consciousness.  
  
~TBC~ 


	4. Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Disclaimers in Chapter 1.  
  
~~~~~ Chapter Four: Every Rose Has Its Thorn ~~~~~  
  
Calleigh came to slowly, awareness climbing out of a cold, unfeeling void in halting steps.  
  
Without warning, inky nothingness was instantly overtaken by mind- shattering pain, its exact location a mystery, as recognition and consciousness dawned, bringing with it the realization that not only did her head ache dully, but her shoulder muscles were straining, pulled into an unnatural position behind her back. She tried to wriggle her fingers to alleviate their unaccustomed numbness, only to find that her hands and feet were bound with what she assumed were silk scarves, their cool softness in bittersweet contrast to the bite they inflicted to the tender skin of her wrists and ankles.  
  
She impatiently shoved away the fuzzy, static-covered scenes her addled brain currently supplied in favor of a lucid, more detailed observation of her situation, knowing she would need all her wits about her if she were going to get out of this predicament alive.  
  
The first thing she saw clearly was her assailant pointing a gun at her and leaning heavily against the arm of her living room sofa several steps from where she now sat. Next, she recognized the pungent tang of blood in the air, the source of which became obvious when a warm trickle flowed down the side of her face.  
  
Huffman gave Calleigh only a few seconds to prepare herself mentally before he began to speak.  
  
"So, Blondie's finally awake. I see you've been getting my roses." He nodded his head at her, gesturing toward the box at her feet.  
  
He came to stand directly in front of her and raised his hand intending to stroke her cheek, but Calleigh jerked her head away from the impending touch.  
  
A demented, self-satisfied grin spread over his face. "Ooh, a feisty one. Do you know who I am?"  
  
Calleigh looked him straight in the eye and, without flinching, delivered a reality check-"Your name is Clyde Huffman. You killed four women."  
  
She caught just a brief flash of fear in his eyes before he turned away from her.  
  
"The reporters are calling you the 'Rosebud Killer'."  
  
At that, he pivoted back toward her, his evil expression a sickening sight. "Yeah. Kinda cool, ain't it?"  
  
"No, Mr. Huffman. There's nothing 'cool' about murder."  
  
Huffman's face fell slightly. Sensing that she could gain the upper hand from him, Calleigh continued on unhindered.  
  
"Apparently, you think I'm next on your list, but I can tell you for certain, that's not going to happen." Calleigh's voice remained outwardly calm despite the quivering in her belly.  
  
"You won't be able to keep away from me for long. Don't you know how happy I could make you?" The look in his eyes was half wild, half pleading.  
  
Calleigh laughed scornfully. "You don't have what it takes to make me happy, you son of a-"  
  
Huffman grabbed her viciously by the hair, yanking her head back so that she was forced to look up at him towering over her.  
  
"Shut up!" he screamed, shoving his gun in her face. "You know, I was gonna handle you just like all the others and shoot you and get it over with, but I think I'd rather have a little fun first instead."  
  
Calleigh shivered at his words, trying valiantly not to let her building terror show.  
  
A prisoner in her own home, her hands and feet bound and useless to her at the moment, Calleigh did all she could think to do-she began rocking the chair from side to side in an effort to avoid Huffman's advances.  
  
He fought briefly to subdue her, but was unable to stop her maneuverings. An unexpected forceful slap to her face brought the scuffle to and end, Calleigh's body going still out of sheer instinct for preservation, the criminalist in her remembering that cooperation with one's attacker was the key to survival. Breathing heavily now, she could feel her cheek beginning to plump from swelling. She could only imagine the angry-looking bruises she would have when this was over.  
  
"Now that's more like it," Huffman drawled.  
  
His gun mere inches from her face and his body situated so close to her own that not so much as a sheet of paper could be placed between them, he hunkered down and untied Calleigh's feet. His proximity eliminated the option of kicking or kneeing him in the chest. Just to feel him touching her made Calleigh cringe. She fought back the bitter taste of bile that threatened to rise in her throat at the thought of what this monster was undoubtedly planning to do to her.  
  
Moving around behind her, Huffman held the gun to the back of Calleigh's head while he untied her hands and brought them more accommodatingly down in front of her, keeping them held tightly with his own, preventing her from striking out at him. Coming back within her field of vision, he hauled her roughly to her feet and pulled her away from the chair toward the middle of the living room floor.  
  
With no preamble, Huffman shoved Calleigh to the floor and crouched above her, her body pinned helplessly between his knees. Adrenalin surged powerfully, giving Calleigh the momentum to squirm and struggle with her aggressor. The harder she fought, the angrier he became, his face a mask of wickedness and determination. Calleigh's frustrated groans and whimpers were met with Huffman's disaffected grunts as they volleyed for control.  
  
Calleigh was able to free one hand long enough to reach up and scratch at Huffman's face, leaving jagged, bloody claw marks on his skin. For her impudence, she was rewarded, or more accurately, punished, by having her hands once again bound, yanked above her head, and secured to the leg of the nearby coffee table.  
  
Her helpless moans became desperate cries as she tried and failed to evade him.  
  
She was defenseless against him now.  
  
Girding herself for the inevitable, she retreated within, determined not to be emotionally present for the onslaught that was to come. As such, she was only vaguely aware of Huffman savagely tearing at her blouse, the ruined fabric no longer a barrier between them.  
  
He leaned in to paw at her, his foul, hot breath robbing her of what little air she currently panted to breathe.  
  
Calleigh's body went limp, her eyes glazing over, the here and now a far less inviting place than the alternate reality deep inside her own mind.  
  
Above all else, she wanted to see visions of a happier time and place, to remember good things, beautiful things, to block out the ugliness about to unfold around her. She focused all her energy on that task, and for a few moments, she succeeded. She saw brief flashes of times passed-walking along her favorite beach at sunset, her graduation day at the police academy, the decimated targets at untold numbers of firing ranges, a proffered cup of coffee from Horatio-  
  
Horatio. Oh, God.  
  
There was so much unsaid between them. So much left unfinished.  
  
Now they would never get the opportunity to explore what might have been. He would never know how she felt because they'd been too afraid of opening up to each other, too unwilling to take a chance.  
  
And if, by some miracle of fate she did survive this day, what then? What would he think of her? Would he treat her differently? Then there was that little matter of her hiding evidence...evidence that might have led to Huffman's arrest before the situation reached its present status. Horatio was her supervisor. There would be a censure for her, or worse. He would have no choice in the matter. My God, what had she done? To lose her job, the career she loved so much, would be difficult; but to lose Horatio before they had truly found each other, well, that would be unbearable in the extreme.  
  
Even in her current state, Calleigh could feel hot tears swell and spill over her cheeks.  
  
Huffman stilled, paralyzed by the notion that the fight had gone out of his victim. He looked down at her as though seeing her for the first time. Her head was turned away from him, her facial expression a blank slate. There was no satisfaction for him in this. He didn't want to take from her body-he wanted her dead.  
  
He pushed himself up and away from her only slightly, locking his knees to create a firing stance. He raised his gun, poised to shoot. Closed his eyes. Calleigh turned to face him, to meet her fate head-on.  
  
Was this how her life was to end?  
  
No.  
  
She would not let it be.  
  
At the moment Huffman began to squeeze the trigger, his concentration was broken as pandemonium erupted around him.  
  
Calleigh's front door was broken off its hinges as in rushed a double dose of justice--Horatio Caine and Frank Tripp--the duo flanked by a cluster of black-clad marksmen, their arrival heralded by thunderous shouts and heavy footfalls. The group swarmed the room with weapons drawn, surrounding Huffman and Calleigh.  
  
Tripp took charge, yelling "Don't move! Don't even flinch, you sorry scumbag!"  
  
Sneering, Huffman moved to pull back the gun's firing mechanism, Tripp's admonition going unheeded.  
  
Without even pausing to think, Horatio took the shot.  
  
The man's body slumped sideways, clinging to life by the barest of threads.  
  
As Huffman's shoulder hit the floor beside her, Calleigh cried out, all her pent-up emotions suddenly escaping their floodgates.  
  
Every instinct within him urged Horatio to help Calleigh, but he knew that at the moment, she could not be his only concern. He carefully untied her hands and turned to attend to Huffman. Before he could even get his bearings, though, Calleigh crossed in front of him and fell to her knees beside her attacker.  
  
With all the strength she could muster, Calleigh rolled Huffman onto his back. His pitiful cries of pain went unheard as Calleigh began beating his chest with both her clinched fists, deep, guttural sobs wracking her frame with every impact. She was able to get in several strong blows before two powerful arms took hold of her and pulled her away from the mortally wounded man.  
  
Horatio slowly led her to the sofa. Her eyes studied the floor during the entire process, never once rising to look directly at him. She dropped listlessly to the seat and instantly curled into a fetal position, burrowing into the space between the back cushion and the armrest.  
  
Horatio's heart squeezed itself like a fist at the sight of her, bloodied and bruised, exhausted and terrified, but to him, never more beautiful. He gently draped his CSI-issue windbreaker over her shivering form and stepped back to allow a couple of paramedics, one, blessedly, a woman, to begin to check her over. Horatio was more than a little worried that Calleigh was still uncommunicative.  
  
Huffman began to regain consciousness and laboriously turned his head to look at Horatio. Cold gray met even colder ice blue and stayed locked at impasse for several seconds.  
  
In the earlier melee, the last rose had been dumped onto the carpet. Horatio stooped to pick it up, looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, then tossed it carelessly onto Huffman's chest as the man lay dying.  
  
"How's it feel to get a rose, hmm?"  
  
Huffman winced in pain, but said nothing.  
  
"Get him outta here, Frank, before I do something I might actually regret," Horatio growled, his eyes two warnings.  
  
One of Miami-Dade's finest helped two other paramedics load Huffman onto a gurney and wheeled him to one of the waiting ambulances, leaving Horatio and Tripp alone in the middle of the room.  
  
"What the hell happened, Frank? I though you said this place would be like Fort Knox. How did he get in here without any of your guys seeing him?"  
  
Tripp was remorseful and angry at the same time.  
  
"Looks like he caught my guys unaware outside. Clocked 'em and left 'em lying in the shrubbery at the side of the building."  
  
It didn't escape Tripp's notice that Horatio had heard what he was saying, but his eyes remained locked on Calleigh.  
  
"I'll take care of things on this end, Horatio. Delko and Speedle can process the scene without you here. Go. Go be with her."  
  
Horatio turned and nodded to his friend, a look of compassion and shared understanding passing between them.  
  
After a much-too-long struggle and a war of words, the paramedics were able to convince a stubborn Calleigh to go to the hospital. They had bandaged her head wound, but wanted to be sure of no further injuries. Calleigh slid onto the gurney of her own volition, unwilling to let anyone touch her.  
  
As she was being wheeled out through the hole where her front door used to be, Eric and Speed walked up, ready to begin documenting the events that had taken place. This was Calleigh's home, but it was also a crime scene. They promised her that they would take special care with her things.  
  
Horatio watched as the paramedics lifted Calleigh into the second ambulance. She still had not made eye contact with him. Her walls were up. She had gone fully into self-protection mode. He knew that, without a doubt, it would take all the love and care he could offer her to penetrate the fortress she had built in such a short time.  
  
He only hoped his love would be enough to bring her back to him. 


	5. The Rose

Disclaimers in Chapter 1.  
  
~~~~~ Chapter Five: The Rose ~~~~~  
  
Two Days Later  
  
Alexx stood at her autopsy table, scalpel in hand, ready to make a y- incision. When she heard the door swing open behind her, she waited, a knowing smile drifting across her face. She knew he'd be here eventually.  
  
"How are you coming with the Huffman results, Alexx?" He spoke abruptly, his attempt at sounding casual falling short.  
  
The half irritated, half amused medical examiner shifted around to face him and grumbled, "Child, I've been done for hours. Those IAB folks stood over me until I finished the post last night. It wasn't a 'kill shot,' Horatio. He bled out."  
  
She watched as Horatio closed his eyes briefly, a bit of relief registering there, but his face remained pinched, complete absolution continuing to elude him.  
  
She spoke up quickly, yet comfortingly, to impart words of wisdom she knew he needed to hear.  
  
"Competition makes men possessive, Horatio. He wanted what he couldn't have." Alexx sighed, glancing across the morgue toward the still-tormented leader of CSI. "And from what I've heard, the monster got what he deserved. I'm just sorry you feel guilty for giving it to him."  
  
She knew, even if Horatio wasn't willing to say so, that short of his own death, nothing would have stopped him from getting to Calleigh before it was too late. He wouldn't have let Huffman take her away from him.  
  
"Mmm...yes, what he deserved. That's for IAB to decide, now, isn't it?"  
  
When his cell phone trilled, Horatio excused himself and stepped into the hallway, grateful this time for the interruption.  
  
Frank Tripp began speaking at once, his imposing voice filling Horatio's ear.  
  
"It's over--fastest IAB inquiry in the history of the department. They ruled it a justifiable shooting, 'in the line of duty' and all that jazz. You're off the hook."  
  
"What about Calleigh?" Horatio asked immediately, pretense no longer necessary.  
  
"She'll have to see the department shrink--that's procedure--no getting around it. But other than that, it looks like she's in the clear too."  
  
Horatio audibly released a shaky breath.  
  
Tripp snickered, "That must have been some speech you made to the panel. They're not planning to go after her for obstruction of justice, withholding evidence or anything else."  
  
"I would have done the same for anyone on my team. It's my job."  
  
Tripp wasn't buying it. "It's more than that, and you and I both know it. You can't kid a kidder, Horatio, so don't even try."  
  
Horatio could hear the grin in Frank's voice; nevertheless, he steered the conversation onto more serious ground.  
  
"I hope I have your word, Frank, that this stays between us."  
  
Tripp huffed exaggeratedly. "Horatio, man, how long we known each other, a couple days short of forever?"  
  
Twin chuckles echoed across the cell phone waves.  
  
"Something like that, yeah." Horatio replied, his tension beginning to ease slightly.  
  
"Okay, then you know you've got my word. Hell, I'll even go you one better...if I was gonna give you up, I'd have done it last year during the Otis jailbreak. The whole department was on to you two like white on rice back then!"  
  
Horatio groaned. "*Goodbye* Frank." Then, much more sincerely, "And Frank...thank you."  
  
"No problem. It's the least I can do since you've pulled my ass out of the fire more times than I can even remember."  
  
The comrades-in-arms clicked off the call.  
  
Horatio turned to rejoin Alexx, but found he didn't have to go far since she was standing just behind him blocking his path back to the morgue.  
  
"I work better alone, Horatio," she grinned. "Besides, I happen to know you have somewhere else you'd rather be."  
  
Her pointed stare brooked no argument.  
  
"Not you too, Alexx?" Horatio groused.  
  
Her patented omniscient smile would have been funny if Horatio hadn't known she was right.  
  
"Yes, me. Now go--and don't give me any of that 'she doesn't want to see me' crap, either. I drove the girl home from the hospital this morning-- you're the *only* one she wants to see."  
  
Horatio leaned down and placed a feather-light kiss on the ME's forehead, to which Alexx winked affectionately in return.  
  
"I hope you're right, Alexx. I hope you're right," Horatio murmured as he turned to leave.  
  
"Sugar, I'll tell you like I tell my kids...I'm *always* right!"  
  
~~~~~  
  
Horatio, his sunglasses dangling precariously from his fingertips, paused to admire the craftsmanship of Calleigh's new front door. The workmen he hired had finished the job in record time. The newly installed pine wood barrier was one of two obstacles standing between him and the woman on the other side--the woman he loved. He could finally admit it...he did love her...now it was time to let *her* know. The door was an obstacle he could easily overcome. Calleigh's fragile state was quite another story.  
  
He lifted the doorknocker and tapped it softly on the strike plate several times. When that brought no results, he pressed the doorbell button. After an eternity of seconds, the door came open slowly, the scene of Calleigh's ordeal laid bare before him.  
  
Calleigh stepped timidly out from behind the door looking more haggard than Horatio had ever seen her. A small gauze bandage taped near her temple covered most of the damage, but she couldn't hide the bruising on her cheek, so dark and ominous-looking. What shocked Horatio the most, though, was her eyes--they were sad and lonely, distant--empty, almost. She wouldn't look at him; instead, she focused on the floor near his feet.  
  
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He knew that if he did speak, he should say something worth the words. Deflecting for a moment, he tucked his sunglasses into his suit coat pocket then looked back to Calleigh. Not trusting his voice just yet, he cautiously reached up and cradled her face in his hand, his thumb caressing her uninjured cheek as gently as a whisper.  
  
When she could stand it no longer, Calleigh looked upward, her eyes coming to rest on his like a butterfly on a flower, the expression on her face like a sigh, though she said not a word.  
  
A ripple of heat passed through her body and into his, lodging itself in his heart.  
  
"The IAB inquiry is finished," he stated simply.  
  
Calleigh was dangerously unemotional. "I talked to Tripp a little while ago. He told me everything."  
  
Horatio took her by the hand and led her to the living room, its space still vibrating with the tensions of the insidious acts that had taken place there.  
  
Not sure if she'd be comfortable sitting on the sofa, he guided her toward one of the side chairs. She stopped walking and tugged on his arm.  
  
"It's alright. I can use the sofa, if you'll sit with me."  
  
He didn't hesitate for a second...he walked her over to the couch and sat down slowly, urging her to join him, which she did willingly, moving in close to him-not touching, but near enough to be able to draw from the warmth radiating off his body.  
  
Horatio watched the internal struggle play out on Calleigh's face; it was as though she was taking stock of herself and a tidal wave of guilt was crashing over her because of the things she was seeing.  
  
Calleigh throbbed on the inside, the thrill of Horatio's presence at war with intense feelings of shame. She had compromised the investigation and very nearly paid for it with her life. Over the past couple of days, she had been catapulted into an emotional place unlike any other and now she was perched on the edge of an echoing abyss, about to fall, to be lost forever. But Fate stepped in, just in the nick of time. When Calleigh couldn't get to Horatio, Fate brought him to her.  
  
Love clutched at her left hand, helped her reach out to him with her right.  
  
Calleigh launched herself into the safety of his arms, her tears flowing in a cathartic release of irrepressible emotions.  
  
Horatio was mesmerized. He held her close, taking her into his heart, into his very soul.  
  
As her crying began to subside, she tried to pull away from him, but he wasn't ready to relinquish his hold. Instead, he rocked her tenderly within his embrace for a few moments, and when he felt her begin to tremble under his touch, he lowered his arms and let her go with his eyes.  
  
In a hoarse voice, his throat covered with cobwebs, he whispered, "You won't always be a secret to me."  
  
"I'm *so* sorry, Horatio. I should have told someone about getting the roses," she admitted tearfully.  
  
"You should have told *me*," Horatio corrected gently. "Don't you trust me?"  
  
The words stung bitterly.  
  
Calleigh hung her head, a veil of hair concealing her face from him.  
  
Horatio carefully lifted a few of the golden strands and tucked them behind her ear, his touch lingering on her bruised cheek too long, yet not long enough.  
  
"Oh, God, Horatio. I do. I do trust you. I just didn't want the team to think less of me. I didn't want to be treated like a victim...and look what happened. I became one anyway."  
  
She quickly sprang from her seat and took a few steps away from him before he could stop her.  
  
"I messed up big time, Horatio. I let you down. I let the team down. I could have lost my job...but, I *do* trust you. I lo-"  
  
Calleigh froze, afraid to finish the word. She looked at him, her eyes as wide as saucers.  
  
Horatio's soft smile and glistening eyes told her instantly that he understood, and, in fact, felt the same way.  
  
"You can say it, you know," he prodded gently, a note of hope in his voice. "I love you, too."  
  
She kept silent, bewilderment etched across her face. She was afraid to hope for it, afraid to believe it.  
  
"Oh, Horatio, how? How could you possibly, after all this? *I* don't even like what I see when I look in the mirror now."  
  
She turned her back once again, hiding as much from herself as from him.  
  
Horatio rose from the sofa and quietly stepped up behind her, lightly grasping her by the shoulders, giving them a little squeeze and prompting her to turn and face him.  
  
With all the sincerity he could convey, he murmured, "Then look in my eyes, because I'm all the mirror you'll ever need."  
  
With infinite gentleness he took her face in his hands and lifted it toward his own.  
  
"I think I've loved you forever, Calleigh Duquesne," he whispered, his voice crackling with emotion.  
  
Time hung in the balance, suspended from tethers held in the hands of Destiny. They came together as soul mates, lovers long denied the comfort of each other.  
  
Their lips met again and again, sealing their future with tender, languorous kisses.  
  
Arm-in-arm they made their way back to the sofa, cuddling there as though it was an oft-indulged habit. Stillness reined for a long while until Horatio broke the spell.  
  
He gently pushed her up and away from him saying, "Please promise me you won't do anything like this again."  
  
"You mean this?" she asked coyly, kissing first his left cheek, then his right, in a transparent attempt to distract him.  
  
Horatio grew serious and took both her hands in his.  
  
"I mean it, Calleigh. You can't go around putting yourself in harm's way all the time. My heart can't take it."  
  
Calleigh's southern pride and independent streak came to light.  
  
"How 'bout I promise to try my best not to keep from you any more of those secrets you talked about earlier?" She grinned impishly, waiting for his reply.  
  
Horatio chuckled and cocked his head to the side.  
  
"I have a feeling that's the best offer I'm gonna get." He smiled and drew her in for another kiss.  
  
Calleigh pulled away from him suddenly, as though stricken.  
  
"Oh, Lord, Horatio. I just realized something--I haven't really told you. I haven't *actually* said it."  
  
"What?" Horatio was puzzled.  
  
Her eyes held him deeply, potent emotions coursing between them.  
  
A single tear drifted down her cheek and fell onto his chest.  
  
"I love you, Horatio. So much."  
  
The rest would come later, but for now they were content just to bask in this moment, to revel in their newfound joy.  
  
He cradled her in his arms once again and buried his face in her hair.  
  
"And I you, Calleigh, my beautiful rose..." he whispered, "And I, you."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Finis. 


End file.
